


heart open, testify, tell me that I'm not crazy

by CarmenOnMonday



Series: Mercy 'verse [5]
Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Big realisations, Eric is oblivious, F/M, Falling In Love, M/M, Pining, Possibly Unrequited Love, Slow Burn, until he isn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-15
Updated: 2020-02-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:48:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22743520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarmenOnMonday/pseuds/CarmenOnMonday
Summary: It’s in details; in Dele’s gestures, in his features, in the way he carries himself. It's in the way he looks at the moment, right there, in the home of everything they both cherish. It’s in his fearlessness and his pride, in his playfulness and his vulnerable side which is only slightly peeking out from underneath it all. That’s where Eric finds his answer.He doesn’t need to say it out loud for it to be true.
Relationships: Dele Alli/Eric Dier
Series: Mercy 'verse [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1182350
Comments: 14
Kudos: 68





	heart open, testify, tell me that I'm not crazy

**Author's Note:**

> ...told you Mercy isn't abandoned! Some stories have to grow in you, first. It's been a year since I updated, I'm aware, but I didn't have the words before. Somehow, I found them now. If you didn't read previous parts, I recommend to check them out. They're important.  
> Special dedication for Bea for being the godmother of this story.  
> It's not real at all. Please prepare for... emotions.

_(May ‘17)_

It’s a celebration, first and foremost, with all the big shots gathered on the pitch and the stands full to the brim; their win against Manchester United makes it all the more joyful.

Still, it’s also a farewell time. Even with two more matches to play, it seems like this is the end of the season – long and painful, but as always, full of little moments of glory. The situation in the table is already set, they’ll end second – which is huge, but also only makes him wish harder for more – and all the matches ahead of them will be played away. Because, of course, it is also a final goodbye to the place they call their home.

Eric looks around, at the fans and players and their families, some happy and some more nostalgic, and can hardly believe that this is it.

It wasn’t an easy season, and at times, he even hoped it would come to an end; when his mistakes cost them Europa League, when Dele struggled with one more anger break, when a match after match meant he had to stay in England for long weeks without any break... And yet, it was also one of the best for him; always out there on the pitch, always in the centre, always together with other lads. Although during the hardest winter period his bones ached from the cold he spent most of his time in, and his muscles needed more and more attention from the physio just to keep up with the pace of the season, he couldn’t complain – it kept him busy, energized, ready to work harder, run faster, smile wider.

It helped that he had a great company while doing it. With only short breaks from work at the most unusual times, sometimes on the Tuesday morning, sometimes Thursday afternoon, he couldn’t afford to visit even the family members who lived the closest to him – and that was still Steph, two hours away from London – not to mention his parents, friends, and Maria in Portugal, or Frank and Eddie in Miami. And yet, somehow, he was rarely lonely. Even though his Spurs teammates spent most of the time together, it still didn’t make them tired of each other’s faces, and it was easy to find someone willing to go out together or spend a quiet evening in. That’s the upside of having a young squad, Eric reckoned.

Sometimes, he cooked with Jan and played with his children, and his heart grew when he realised he found yet another family he could almost feel a part of.

He walked the dogs with Harry, both pairs of their pupils fond of each other, and it was so domestic that he barely remembered times when him, Cisco, and Clay only had each other.

He joined Hugo’s late afternoon parties and found himself drawn to the French language, decision to learn it already made.

With the memories of this season flashing through his mind, it’s easy to understand the melancholy surrounding all the people who came to the stadium today to say goodbye both to the season, and to their home.

Eric heart aches weirdly while he’s looking at the old stands of White Hart Lane and observing it live.

“We’ll miss it, oi?” Harry’s voice cuts through the noise of the stadium. Eric can see Kate, with little Ivy in her arms, talking to Marine Lloris. Harry follows his stare and quickly explains: “They’re talking about baby fashion. Had to escape.”

Eric smiles fondly. If for him, closing the stadium is a nostalgic occasion, for Harry it must be a real end of an era. No wonder he wants to talk about it.

“You coward. Should’ve talked about desiner onesies, don’t you want your kid to be the best dressed one?” Harry glares at him. Eric sobers up. “But yeah, I know what you mean. We will miss it. I didn’t think about it before but-“

“What didn’t you think about before?” The words are quickly followed by a body jumping on Eric’s back and he knows immediately what attacked him. Or rather who. “Have I heard something about designers? It’s clear you’ve never thought about _them_.”

Eric grins.

Because of course, amid all the chaos and commotion surrounding this season, there was also Dele; Dele, who filled almost every other free moment Eric had with his nonsense, banter, and ridiculous ideas which most of the time made Eric squirm, but also easily reminded him he’s barely twenty three and allowed to have silly fun.

Maybe that’s why he is Eric’s favourite.

With Dele by his side, Eric was never bored. It was easy to forget about ever being homesick, easy to just give up on the constant need to move, to discover, to search for more. With Dele by his side, even the most demanding part of the season was a time of joy.

Every victory, they celebrated together; after every loss, they could count on the other one to ease the burn. Eric spent as much time at his own house as at Dele’s, and it never felt weird; instead, it gave him a touch of the domestic life he always wanted to have.

Being around Dele was as easy as breathing.

But now, it is almost time to say goodbye.

Eric shakes his weight off his back.

“Dier here shows signs of a weird obsession. Designer onesies,” Kane quips.

“I don’t think they’re making them big enough to fit your entire fat ass, but-“

“Oi, shut it!” Eric cuts in and pokes Dele in the side. He giggles, his entire body squirming in Eric’s hold. “As if you’re some kind of fashion expert, mister jeans with jeans.”

“Ops, the lap is starting! Gotta find my girls.” Harry wonders off. The sight of him, carefully taking Ivy into his arms, makes Eric smile even more fondly. One day, years from now...

Eric glances at Dele and notices his wide smile, big enough to cover the nostalgia in the air. No need to think about what ifs and should haves, Eric thinks. Here and now is enough.

In an impulse he doesn’t even register, he reaches out and takes his hand in his own. Dele gives him a side eye, but doesn’t try to break their hold.

“You can be my baby,” Eric explains like it’s obvious.

Having someone to hold on to feels good. If Eric had to describe his season in one sentence, maybe that would be it.

They make a scene out of this, exaggerating the way they sway their hands, and Eric realises with a sudden clarity what exactly the end of the season entails.

Through the season, they were in this together – crazy schedules and endless travels, soulless hotel rooms and their own houses they came back to at the weirdest hours – and having a companion made it all the more enjoyable, especially a companion like Dele, so cheerful, so full of energy. So easy to be around, to talk with, to play around with, to sit in silence with. It felt like a perfect arrangement for the busy season when all they had was each other.

But now, even with many other options of spending his time off, Eric finds himself unwilling to lose his hold on Dele.

He has to, though, in the literal sense, because then Moussa loses his shit seeing their little performance, and Dele has a giggling fit as well, falling into him, and then they’re joined by even more teammates. Jan slows down to walk with them; even the gaffer joins their little group.

For a time being, Eric forgets about the unease filling him at every thought of the season ending. But then, celebrations are coming to an end, and people start filtering out, with a heavy heart leaving behind the memory of this place. They stay alone again, just Dele and Eric slowly walking down the tunnel to the changing room, and before Eric considers the consequences, he reaches out and with a hand on his shoulder stops Dele. He breaks his monologue – something about one fan who had a real life size cartoon Poch for them all to sign – and looks at Eric with expectation.

“Let’s go for holidays together,” Eric proposes. Once spoken out loud, it sounds like a really good idea.

Dele stares at him with wide, surprised eyes. His through bobs while he’s swallowing slowly.

“...sure,” he says finally, easy like that, and Eric feels himself relax.

It’s not a goodbye yet.

* * *

Well, it wouldn’t be anyway, per se, because there’re still two matches to play – although both more of a fun ordeal than a true competition, with pressure lifted when they can enjoy football more than ever and finish with impressive scores of 7 goals – and then, there’s an international break to attend.

All the travelling in between is a perfect opportunity to discuss details of their holidays. Eric calls Maria from the hotel and sheepishly explains that he invited Dele to what was initially intended to be their romantic getaway; she surprises him once again when she takes it in stride and appreciates the fact that she’ll be able to spend time with his friends – friends, plural – which in turn forces Eric to bring up with Dele the fact that Maria will be there. He’s even quicker with reaction, stating that Ruby’s game as well (and isn’t that a relief; Maria already started planning their girls night out), and actually, maybe Harry too, so then Eric asks his brothers and other friends...

And it all turns into something much bigger than intended. But when the planning is all done, Eric realises that this is exactly what he needs: a house full of people, the entire crew ready to take on Greece together (play multiple board games) and discover wild nature (sunbathe next to the pool).

So that’s what they do, and it’s absolutely glorious.

* * *

Greece is exactly what it was supposed to be, pure fun and rest. Eric isn’t above admitting that he wasn’t exactly sure how his friends from many different environments would mix up, but somehow, it works.

On a rare evening when they’re all together at the villa, Eric takes time to appreciate how lucky he is. He follows all the people in living room with his eyes; there’s Harry talking to Eric’s old friend Marcus, there’s Patrick with Laura and Ruby, all of them engrossed in an animated discussion, there’s Maria who is absolutely glowing, swirling around between groups, effortlessly fitting into every conversation there is. That’s the Maria Eric fell in love with; a sunny girl whose smile lights up the room. With her hair up and the dress covered in his hoodie, she looks stunning, and Eric remembers, once again, just how much of a home she is.

The room is loud, full of voices and laughs and big hearts.

Eric observes the people from where he’s perched on a kitchen counter, and has absolutely zero motivation to move.

At least, until he catches a glimpse of a familiar silhouette, sitting by the pool in the yard, and he realises he yearns fresh air.

He could kill for a few deep breaths.

His legs carry him before he makes a conscious decision.

The contrast between the lively villa and static, crisp air in the yard is like stepping into a completely different world.

“Hey there, Delboy,” he whispers, not wanting to interrupt the silence.

Eric’s never thought Dele would like such silence, that he would seek it and choose it over the ongoing party, but when he raises his face, Eric’s no longer surprised. Somehow, he fits in there, in the glow of the moon which is unusually bright that night.

“’tsup?” he answers lazily, his eyes still closed, leaning backwards, supporting his weight with hands on the rock floor. He dangles his legs in the water of the swimming pool.

“You’re missing the party,” Eric says, but he’s already toeing off his flip flops.

Dele snorts. “Maybe you are.” Eric kicks his feet in the water. “Ah. You decided to join.”

“Noo. It’s just a _jellyfish,_ ” Eric smirks into Dele’s ear and falls into a fit of laugh when Dele jumps, startled.

His eyes burn, even in the moonlight, when he quickly hides fear under anger. “You ugly-! You know they make me- They-“

“You’re afraid of them,” Eric contributes happily.

“No! They’re just disgusting.” Dele looks like a stubborn kid, ready to declare he’s more mature than others perceive him.

That’s what he’s been saying before, when they went to the beach and he refused to go into the sea. Eric wanted to take him with himself, but Dele ignored his efforts, and told him to just join Maria. Maria was okay by herself, she’s never been afraid of the sea and was already jumping on the waves, so there was no need, but then Ruby appeared out of nowhere and gave him a look vile enough to think he was trying to force Dele to go diving with sharks, so that was that.

Eric stretches his right leg again and touches Dele’s ankle with his toe, slowly lets it travel from his ankle to the calf, back and forth.

“Look, there’s another one!” he whispers.

He makes sure to apply just the tiniest bit of pressure, perfect to make Dele squirm. Up, and down, his toe slides across Dele’s velvety skin.

He trembles under Eric’s touch, and he’s already breathless.

“Shuttup,” he mutters, and tries to escape, moves to the right. “Stooop, it tickles...”

Eric continues his ministrations, enjoying the way Dele’s flustering. “A big, scary jellyfish living in the deepest pits of the sea is just waiting out there to come and-“

And Eric doesn’t manage to finish, because suddenly there are two hands, on each of his shoulders, and he’s forced to lose his balance, he’s rapidly moving, and then, with a big splash, he hits the water in the pool, some of it entering his mouth which he didn’t close fast enough.

He’s stunned, when he gets to the surface, and it must be some look, because Dele’s laughing out loud like a mad man.

“You son of a-“ Eric starts and reaches out for his legs. Dele’s still laughing and it makes him an easy target. One purposeful tag on his legs later, and he falls right into Eric.

Eric expects complains, but he’s still laughing in delight.

It’s a big mess of tangled limbs then, as they each try to force the other one to go under the water. They go at it until they’re both having troubles catching a breath, and then they lean on each other, trying to calm down a bit.

Eric peers at the people inside the villa, still having fun, and he thinks he sees Ruby’s inspecting look. He catches those sometimes; he thinks he should ask Dele if they’re okay, but he’s waiting for the right moment. He doesn’t want to do it now, doesn’t want to break their little bubble yet. There’s some commotion inside, but he doesn’t want to go check what kind of game they’re playing now.

“I’ve got an idea,” he states, and he sees that Dele’s intrigued.

“What? Wanna bet who’ll hold his breath under the water longer?”

Eric shakes his head and pokes Dele’s lower back. “Go to the sea with me.”

“What? _Now?_ ”

“Come on. You’ve got to face your fears. Just you and me there, I got you.”

There’s just something nagging about the idea of Dele never entering the sea while they’re out here. They’ve got just a couple of days left, and Eric wants Dele to enjoy those holidays, he wants him to experience how beautiful nature is, he wants him to get a taste of everything there is to experience, he wants him to fall in love with it and, and want to come back.

Dele stares at him with his wide eyes. “How exactly the sea at night is better than the sea during the day? It’s dark and, and cold...” Then he deflects quickly. “Are you trying to get rid of me? Want to boss that midfield on your own?”

Eric doesn’t get distracted and tries to give him some reassurance with a gentle squeeze on his waist. He peers into his eyes to make sure his message in received.

“Just you and me. I won’t let any jellyfish come near you, I swear,” he promises solemnly.

Dele bites his lip.

“I’ve never-“ But Eric doesn’t learn what Dele’s never done, because then they are interrupted by the door to the villa opening, some light from inside cutting through the darkness.

“Maria’s looking for you.” It’s Ruby who’s stepping out and coming near the pool. “She needs her partner for Kemps.”

She gives him a expectant look which cuts through his haze.

He raises his hands up, confused. “I’m going, going.”

Maybe he has, in fact, disappeared for longer than he expected.

“Next time?” he asks Dele who shrugs and then dives under the water.

Eric climbs out of the pool and goes towards the living room; a splash of water rings in the silence when Ruby joins Dele.

Maria’s face splints into a broad smile when he steps in and she’s quick to reach out her arms towards him.

“What are we playing?” he asks after a quick kiss to the top of her head.

He’s pulled right into the game with her and his friends, and it’s enough to make him forget about the whole world.

His heart grows and grows, looking at all the people gathered together, and when they’re joined by Dele and Ruby, everything is right.

Later in the night, when they go to their rooms, and it’s quiet, his mind travels towards Dele again, towards their interrupted conversation.

He needs to take him to the sea, is his conclusion. He needs to.

He’s pulled out of his thoughts when Maria moves and tries to find a more comfortable position. She finds her typical spot on his collarbone and turns towards him. She eyes him carefully, and the moonlight might be playing some tricks on Eric because he thinks he catches a glimpse of uncertainty there.

He focuses on her – on the one he has in his arms – and on how rare it is. On her beauty, not only in the sunlight, but in the darkness too; he wills himself not to forget about it, to cherish it like it deserves to be cherished. He’s one happy lad.

“What’s wrong?” he asks in Portuguese, because this, this is just them.

She bites her lip. Seeing her so insecure makes his skin crawl.

“Are you happy? Do you... still love me?” she asks in a broken whisper.

Eric’s breath catches.

“Of course I do. God. I do. I love you.” He’s voice doesn’t waver. He’s not lying.

He does everything he can to prove that to her.

Three days later, she’s on her way to Portugal, and Spurs are back to training.

* * *

Football means routine, Eric has learned that as soon as he joined Sporting’s Academy.

Back then, he thought maybe it was different for the grownups; it couldn’t be that the stars would be wake up early in the morning and go back to sleep before any good films were played on the TV. It couldn’t be that they had a strict schedule of trainings and diet and matches, and that at some point every locker room looked exactly the same, every route to the pitch melted into all the other ones.

And yet. That’s exactly how it is, even at 23, in one of the best clubs in Premier League. It’s all about routine.

Then again, there’s nothing routine about your first goal for England scored at Wembley.

Eric’s back hurts from all the friendly claps he got from his teammates. Henderson is still talking to him about the tactics, but he’s grinning, and Eric is grinning back at him. Football has never felt better.

Joe Hart gives him one more pat on his head when he passes him by, Stones rolls his eyes (“don’t become mister big shot now, mate”), and Harry Kane states: “top class” when he walks by Eric on the way to his seat.

Dele’s staring at him with unmatched intensity, and Eric decides not to be offended by the fact that Dele was so shocked by his goal. Instead, he basks in his attention. It feels one hundred percent more honest than any compliment given by colleagues from other teams.

Dele takes his seat right next to him. He’s just a bit more clingy when they’re at the national break, and Eric doesn’t blame him; it’s a completely different environment, one they still need to prove themselves in, so it’s normal that they take comfort from the other one’s company.

Dele cannot stop replying the events of the night and he’s chatting like a small, excited kid. He might be more happy than Eric himself, and, honestly, it’s kind of cute. Eric can’t stop smiling.

“We should celebrate! Tomorrow! What do you say, you can cook and you can choose the wine, but I’ll...“

The national break is over now, and tomorrow, they have a free day before going back to clubs.

Eric shakes his head with regret, while putting on one of his socks. “I can’t. I’ll be celebrating with physical labour.”

“Huh?”

“I promised to help with moving in.”

“Eric Dier, helper extraordinaire. Figures. Who’s moving?” Dele asks while playing with the strap of him bag.

“My best girl,” Eric murmurs absentmindedly. He’s excited to have her closer, he really is.

Dele drops his bag to the floor. “Maria’s moving in?”

Eric chuckles at his reaction. “Nah, Daisy. You know. Older sister. Sticks her nose into my business. I love her to bits.”

“Ah.” Dele frowns. “Which one is Daisy? The one in California? No, wait, that’s-“

“Frank. Daisy is the one who got married in June, Maria was her bridesmaid. I told you about it, we came to Greece straight from her wedding.”

Dele’s got problems with keeping up with the Dier family. Eric can’t blame him, they are a big bunch.

“Ah, yeah! The one from the Instagram post. I remember.” Dele hums in the rhythm of the song Ox has put on. “So she’ll be living here now?”

“Yep. In London. Will be free to give me scolding in person. Can’t say I’m looking forward to that,” Eric says, but he can feel himself smiling, still. “You should meet her.”

Dele shudders. “Oh God, no.”

“What, scared of lifting some heavy boxes? I’m not saying tomorrow. But generally. You hit it off with Patrick, she’s great too.”

“I bet,” Dele mumbles.

“Huh?”

“Nothing. Maybe. Next time?”

* * *

“Brother,” Daisy greets him the next day with mock seriousness.

“Sister,” he returns the sentiment.

And then they are grinning, falling right into each other arms.

Daisy allows them a few minutes of excited chat, but then she ushers him to the driveway where the moving company dropped her boxes and starts ordering him around. It’s almost like going back in time to his childhood, when they moved so many times that packing their things and lifting the boxes was a familiar process they perfected. He’s helped his family a lot with moving even later - and they helped him too - and it’s such a comforting thing to do, in his scrappy old trainers and a hoodie with a hole in the sleeve, that he enjoys it profusely.

He doesn’t even mind the grilling he receives over their holidays.

“So? Wanna say what that was about?”

“What? Going on holidays with a group of friends? Like it’s some big deal?”

“It is when I’m not invited!”

Eric sticks his head out of the wardrobe just to make an appropriate face. “You wanted to go with us on your honeymoon? Is there something I should know about Tom?”

“That he has a big-“

“Ugh.”

“-kind heart.” She chuckles.

“You’re terrible. You’re a bad influence.”

“Like you’re so innocent? That’s not what Maria told me.”

Eric shudders. “Ew. Stop. I forget you’re talking. Please don’t tell me you’re talking about-“

“That’s going to be our sweet secret.” She winks. “Anyway. Weren’t you supposed to go on a romantic getaway? She talked about it so much before the wedding, I was surprised to hear it turned into a group thing,” she tries to sound neutral, but Eric knows she’s curious.

He focuses on folding her clothes – really, the things he does for her – and offhandedly asks: “Was she disappointed?”

He holds his breath for the answer.

“No, she didn’t say so. She said she enjoyed the time with your friends, you know, the Portuguese bunch, and... Dele...”

He can almost feel the burn of her stare on his neck. “Yeah? That’s good.”

“You’re not trying to force her to move anymore, right?” She’s never one to beat around the bush.

Eric shakes his head and turns to get another box. Daisy hands him scissors so he can cut the tape.

“I never wanted to force her. I was just homesick. I’m not anymore.”

Daisy smiles at him warmly. “Good. And now I’m here, you’ll wish you were the only Dier in London.”

“You’re not a Dier anymore,” Eric notes.

He gets hit with a pair of her joggers across his head. “I’ll always be a Dier. The wisest one.”

“...and the humblest?” Eric contributes, the fondness almost making his heart burst.

“Duh.”

They go back and forth with their banter, and Eric doesn’t even notice when they’re done with the boxes. Tom is supposed to be back with more the next day, but for now, they camp in Daisy’s empty living room sharing the take out.

“So, I’m thinking about a house warming party for the siblings. Been a while since we were all at the same place, huh?”

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

“Will you bring Dele with you?”

Eric raises his head from the pillow to take a look at her face. She’s not joking, it’s a real question.

“Why would I?” he wonders.

“You never shut up about him. I’d like to meet your friends here.”

“You know you’ve got a nice husband already? You don’t need to be introduced to my friends anymore,” Eric remarks.

“Oh, you dick. I never used you as a wingman, unlike some other sibling of ours. You just never shut up about him. I want to see what’s so great there.”

“I do shut up about him. I wasn’t talking about him at all. You brought him up.”

“Yeah? Wait a second.” She gets up from the floor and goes searching for something. She gets back with her phone in her hand. She’s grinning like a mad women. “What’s that all about?”

She plays a video Eric recognizes on her phone.

Six questions with Eric Dier, the title says. And then it’s his ugly mug, smiling, when he says, _“he was a bit shy to being with... but it’s all history now... Dele can be charming when he wants to...”._

Eric falls dramatically back onto his pillow. He can’t look at his face, he doesn’t like how it looks in this interview. They made him smile like some maniac.

“They wouldn’t stop asking about him. Like I’m not a big footballer myself. You know, I scored for England, _England_ , one would think-“

 _”This one’s alright, I like that one,”_ video Eric says.

“Aww, look at that fond puppy.”

“Shut up.”

“I’m meeting him, whether you like it or not.”

“Okay, okay. He’ll come to your hypothetical house warming party.”

Daisy raises her hands in victory.

“Now I know no one will bail on us. They all want to see what’s so great about him.”

* * *

Eric forgets about any parties at all after the season truly commences.

They all realise fairly quickly that it will be a different season. Playing at Wembley isn’t really like playing at home, and Eric notices and appreciates how much work Hugo and Harry put into making them all bond even more and find home within the team, not outside it.

Time passes quickly, and then, before they realise it’s November already and they are absolutely on fire in the Champions League. Dele scores two against Real Madrid. Eric understands then why he was so excited for him when he scored for England; he understands, because he himself can barely contain his excitement at Dele’s achievement. But there’s something else there too.

“Where did’ya lost the main man?” Winks asks him when he comes back from the shower.

“He’s been surrounded by vultures. I decided he’s a big boy, should be able to fend for himself.”

Dele stood there, a star that he is, and the interviewers even remembered to use only his first name when they sprang at him their questions.

The man himself steps into the room a few minutes later, a dope smile lightening his face up, Ronaldo’s jersey in his hand.

Eric winces at the sight.

Not wanting to interrupt Dele’s moments of glory, he hangs with the new Argentineans, Juan and Paulo, and the Spaniard, Fernando. He gravitates towards them whenever he feels a bit lost; hearing them joke in Spanish gives him some unexplainable relief. He stays with them until they board the bus, and then, he has no choice but to seat behind them, the place next to him empty.

It doesn’t stay that way for too long.

Dele slips in gracefully, still smiling widely. Eric wonders if it doesn’t hurt him.

“Did you see, Dier? Dier, did you see?”

“Yeah, Del, I’ve been there. I saw,” he answers impatiently. He softens when Dele deflates. “Well done.”

Just like that, Dele’s smiling again, this time a small, private smile.

“Thanks,” he mutters and lays his head on Eric’s shoulder. “What’s up with you?”

No one even bats an eyes at that. They all know it’s Dele’s spot.

“Huh?”

“What bit you in the arse?”

Eric hums noncommittally.

“Just tired,” he answers, and it must sound convincing, because Dele lets him get away with it; instead, he starts recapping one of his goals again.

Eric heart feels too big in his chest, and he tries to believe it’s just because of the happiness he feels for his friends.

He puts away the venomous thought that keeps nagging him; that Dele’s too big for them, possibly too good for this club, and one day, not too far from today, he’s going to leave. He’ll move on, and find a place where he’ll be able to shine even brighter, and Eric will stay behind and watch him from afar.

Nothing is sure in football, and for the first time in a long while, Eric isn’t sure if that’s a good thing.

Dele burrows even more into Eric’s neck, and Eric forces himself to forget about his worries. They’ve won. They are on fire. And both of them are still there.

After the glorious beginning, November is rather poor for them in the Premier League, and more than once, Eric regrets his weird reaction to the one of their greatest victories in Champions League.

He’s not egoistic enough to believe he jinxed the entire team, but just to feel fair, he swears not to let his thoughts wander in that direction ever again.

* * *

“Ouch!” Eric shouts and falls down to the ground with possibly unnecessary flourish. Someone is running towards him and soon, instead of the blue sky, Eric sees Sonny’s concerned eyes.

“You good? Eric, you good?” He’s so genuinely worried that Eric quickly pulls himself together.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry. My fault entirely.” He reaches out and lets Son lift him from the ground. He takes a few more measuring looks and then scurries away.

“Oi, mate! You sure you’re good?” Then it’s Harry Kane, who approaches him quickly.

“Yeah, I was distracted,” he says while massaging a spot where the ball kicked by Son hit his head.

“What’s on your mind?”

“Nothing,” Eric mumbles in response.

Harry gives him a look.

Maybe it’s the vice captaincy that makes him so interested in Eric’s life, maybe that’s why he cares, but maybe he’s just a good mate. Eric decides to believe in the later and allows himself to be honest. He doesn’t really know who else to talk to about this particular issue.

“Christmas,” he admits.

Kane starts leading them to the other side of the pitch where everyone else is gathering, but he’s setting a slow pace so they have time to chat.

“You’re going to Portugal?”

He’s joggling a ball while he’s walking. Eric focuses his eyes on it.

“Nah. But Portugal is coming here. My siblings, the entire crew.”

“...is that a bad thing?” Harry asks him, concerned.

Eric shakes his head furiously. That’s not the case. It’s stupid, really, but he’s nervous, and it shows in the way he plays, so he needs to deal with it somehow. He can’t afford not to have his head in the game.

“They want to meet Dele. I’m... Not sure if...” He sounds pathetic. It’s not a real problem. Get yourself together Dier, this is not you, he wants to tell himself.

Harry makes an offended face. “Just Dele? What about me? Are the Diers too good for me?”

Eric appreciates the attempt, but instead of a smile, he only manages a wince.

“Okay, okay, I’ll be serious. They surely just want to see in their own eyes who’s the boy you won’t shut up about. It’s not a big deal.”

“I do shut up about him! What is it with you lot?”

It isn’t a big deal, Harry’s right. It shouldn’t be. So why does it feel like one? Eric’s suddenly not sure if bringing Dele to a family gathering is a good idea. He doesn’t understand it, he’s never been one to keep people from different environments separate, and it bums him, but he’s just not sure.

What if he doesn’t like them? What if they don’t like him?

What if Eric somehow messes up the entire thing?

“It’s just a small party, right? Just ask him. He’ll agree, for sure, and you’ll get it over with. And if you don’t want to do this, then don’t do this. It’s not that complicated. Don’t make it into a big deal, that’s my advice.”

Harry is a smart man, Eric decides. And Eric wants Dele to know his family. They’re busy; there might not be any better chance of all of them being in one place. It’s not a big deal.

When they reach Poch and the boys, his mind is clearer.

“Eric, alright?” the gaffer asks, and he nods in answer, feeling on himself a few concerned looks.

“Nothing can break his hard head,” Winksy quips, and Eric threatens him with a raised finger.

“Back to the training boys! We want to win the Boxing Day game, no?” Jesus launches into a long description of Southampton’s recent tactics, and Eric drinks in every words he says, his brain already in the working mode.

Not a big deal.

* * *

Dele agrees. Of course he does; Patrick, the only sibling who already knows him makes sure to bully Dele into agreeing. While asked if he’s sure he wants to do it – it’s not a responsibility, it’s silly and unnecessary of his siblings, and Eric begins to regret ever mentioning it to Dele in the first place – Dele says it’s okay, he doesn’t have any other plans, so he might as well join.

Eric hopes it will go as well as their group holidays. Dele has quickly got on with Paddy and the others; he’s not the loudest person in the world in the new group, but he has this way of charming people (Eric can imagine how Daisy would roll her eyes if she heard him saying/thinking that again), so he should be okay.

He’d be, if only Eric’s siblings would make such a big deal out of it.

They greet him like a lost long friend, all shouts and hugs and “finally”s and “I’ve heard so much”. He’s clearly intimidated, and Eric’s clearly embarrassed.

Still, he makes sure to stay by his side, just to keep an eye on it. They’re lead into a now fully furnished living room and all gather around a table.

“Dele, would you like a slice of cheesecake? Or a chocolate tart?” Daisy plays a good host.

He politely declines. They have a diet plan to follow.

“Hey, Dele, maybe you can settle this debate. Who is your favourite retired player?” Eddie asks.

 _Steven Gerrard_ , Eric answers in his head.

“Stevie G.,” Dele states, unsurely, like he’s afraid it’s a wrong thing to say.

“Ha! I told you!” Tom, Daisy’s husband, grovels to Paddy, and slowly, slowly, Dele smiles.

It’s Dele this, and Dele that, and Eric watches it in wide eyes; he did not expect it to become such a ordeal. Then again, they rarely get any new person brought to their little get togethers. Normally, it’s just the Diers and their spouses.

“Hey, no football talk around the food,” Frank whines.

“Boys surely have enough of it at work, don’t you? I’m gonna make a cuppa for everyone. Eric, you’re going with me,“ Steph announces.

Dele gives him a slightly panicked look but then he’s quickly caught in the next argument of the boys.

Eric sighs and follows Steph to the kitchen, away from the familiar noise. He missed it, he truly did, but he knows it can be a lot for someone who’s not used to it, and he hopes Dele won’t be traumatized by this scene.

“Why are your hands shaking?” Steph asks after the kettle is put on fire.

“They’re not,” he states, but his point doesn’t stand when the cups he’s getting from the cabinet clink against each other.

He places them on the counter and leans on it.

“No need to be so nervous. You know we don’t bite,” Steph talks to him in her mom voice. He’s not sure he likes it; it turns him into a different person, into a little Eric, just one of the six Diers. Unnoticeable. Sometimes it’s a good feeling, but sometimes, it’s a curse he cannot seem to break, even as an adult.

“You’re embarrassing me,” he mumbles.

“Aren’t that what the siblings are for?” she asks with the bite.

“Huh. I need to go sit next to Mark, then, I lost a lot of time I could use for embarrassing _you_.”

“Too late. He’s already mine, won’t run away screaming. Dele, though-“

“Dele what?” A familiar voice asks from the entrance.

Steph turns around quickly. “Dele should totally play Jenga with us, see just how competitive we all get. What do you say? You’re a sportsman too, you’ve got to have competing in your blood. Let’s see how ugly it gets,” she says, and leads him out by the elbow.

Eric shakes his head and follows them slowly, trying to understand how exactly they got to that place.

Once in the living room, he makes an effort to relax and it pays off; his siblings, as embarrassing as they are, are also welcoming, and somehow, they get Dele to open up his shell a bit too. Eric observes him playing Jenga with them and allows himself to breathe more easily.

Dele is an odd puzzle in this picture, he’s clearly an outsider in a way no one ever brought to their family truly was, and yet... he fits. Eric realises that’s exactly what he would say about their friendship too.

He fits in so well that Eric is caught in the whiplash of contrasted emotions.

Two hours later, Dele’s suddenly Paddy’s best mate (he’s still a bit starstruck, but that’s good, that means he’s not rude), Frank nods at his smart remarks about the new album by Drake. Daisy keeps giving them both weird looks, calculating, judgemental.

Dele announces it’s time for him to go and scurries away a bit too quickly to pretend he’s not still a little bit nervous. He has troubles tying his shoelaces too, but Eric decides not to address that.

Eric leads him out to his car. They’re both quiet on their way, lost in thoughts.

“Thanks for the invitation,” Dele finally says through the open window, when the car is already started and they still didn’t say the word. “They’re nice.”

“They’re... a lot. Thanks for putting up with them,” Eric responds. _For me_ , he doesn’t add.

“I had fun. I just- I hope- Did they like me?” he asks, vulnerability painted on his face.

“Yes! Yes, of course! They loved you. Believe me. They did.”

“Not all of them,” Dele mumbles.

“Hm? Why would you say that? Honestly, they all liked you. Don’t worry. You’ve been great.”

Eric was worried that this might happen, that the whole thing might get too overwhelming for Dele, that it would make him anxious, and here it was, a proof that he should’ve kept a closer eye on him, shouldn’t have forced him to come, shouldn’t have let him see all this.

He lays his hand on Dele’s shoulder and squeezes it.

The moments feels loaded and Eric can’t take it anymore.

“So. That’s who I am. When I’m not a footballer,” he states, suddenly.

Dele raises an eyebrow.

“And? You thought I didn’t know that?” he demands to know.

“You’ve never seen me with them. It’s- different. So. Here.”

“I’ve unlocked another level of Eric Dier? Nice,” Dele grins, and it somehow resolves the tension.

“If you’re lucky, you’ll get to see even more,” Eric says without thinking.

Dele snorts at that. “Can’t wait to get lucky!” he shouts and uses this as a perfect conclusion; he then drives away.

 _Oh, you idiot_ , Eric whines in his head, his hand unconsciously travelling to the back of his neck.

He realises then that he was supposed to ask Dele if he wants to go with him for a longer walk with dogs tomorrow; they have two more free days before going back to training and he wanted to use them to the fullest. He brings out his phone to write a text, but then realises they literally saw each other two minutes ago. And Dele probably already has plans with Ruby or his family, Eric kept him to himself for far too long already.

He texts Harry instead, and they agree to meet at 8 am by the forest. Dele would never consent to such early meeting anyway.

Eric takes two big breaths and goes back into the house to face even more teasing. Before he allows his siblings to distract him, he takes a selfie of them all smiling like crazy, one Maria requested when he said they’ll all be at Daisy’s. Then, he does his best to ignore their comments about his best friend and how he compares to Jimmy, his best friend form the kindergarder.

The look Daisy gives him, repetitively through the night, is a promise of some more serious conversation coming. He does his best to ignore it.

* * *

If anyone were to ask Eric how he spent the beginning of 2018, “confused” would be the key word. That’s how he feels, constantly confused, because he’s happy, he’s more happy than he can ever remember being, and he can’t explain it at all.

Football is good, but not perfect; they win and draw in turns, and at this point in season, every single point counts, so draws feel like loses. You can’t tell that’s the case though, because somehow, the whole team is in high spirit. They create this inner dynamic which never allows them to get down for longer than few hours. It seems like the backbone of the team – the reason for their connection, or maybe just a sign of it – are never stopping UNO competitions which make all the boring times in between pass surprisingly quickly.

They bet a lot; Jan loses to Son and in theory, has to clean his boots for a week, but Son is too nice, so his penalty gets lifted.

Ben Davis, who almost never loses, slips up one time and is forced to read a comic book of Moussa’s choice. It turns out that’s not so much of a penalty, when he comes to training the next day still reading while walking the corridors, glasses slipping down his nose and a haunted look in his eyes when he explains he can’t stop reading now, he needs to know how it ends. They tease him about it for days.

Finally, Eric loses a bet to Dele, and is forced to spend a day night out with him as his chauffer.

He wouldn’t say it to his face, but he has a great time, the best time really, because it’s been a while since they had some time together.

And... And it’s just a bet. It’s understandable that Eric goes out of his way to make sure Dele’s having a good time. It’s justified that they’re having fun together, that’s the whole point. On their way back, when Dele’s dancing in the seat of Eric’s car to the Brazilian song he put on, Eric wishes for a way to make this moment last.

He vaguely notices that his phone is vibrating, but he ignores it.

“You had fun, Dier, right?” Dele asks when they arrive at his house.

“Yeah.”

“It means we need to repeat it. _I_ was supposed to be the one having fun,” Dele explains like it’s obvious.

“Shut up. It was the best day of your life, having your arse driven around.”

Dele sobers up a bit and looks into Eric’s eyes for a bit to make his message clear. “Thank you,” he says.

And Eric thinks, _always._

* * *

Eric’s birthday come, as always, during the intense period of the season. At this point, they’re all typically tired, so he rarely celebrates in a grand manner. This year, though, they are in Barcelona and it’s different.

He’s woken up by his blaring phone full of texts and messages on Whatsup. Maria sends him a photo of them both celebrating his birthday, two years ago when she happened to have a winter break at the time and could travel to see him, and he smiles fondly at the memory. His Instagram blows with notifications, and with his still blurry eyes he manages to find an appropriate button to turn them down, and then he’s ready to face the day – or so he thinks.

Turns out, his football friends are also set on making a big deal out of his birthday. It means he becomes a talk of the day. Even in his team, which he loves to pieces, he gets surprisingly embarrassed when they all start to treat him differently. It’s just a day, but nobody lets him forget that he’s a year older already. They all come around to wish him well, including the manager and the crew, and Eric’s sure the smile he wears doesn’t drop even for a second, throughout the whole day. Not when there’s also Dele, plastered to his side at all times, ready to make sure he’s not alone on his birthday.

“It’s literally impossible for me to be alone, Delboy. I’m with you all,” Eric tries to argue.

“Not the same!” Dele insists, and after the third time he says it, Eric lets it go. There might be something more there that he doesn’t want to be asked about.

Anyway, it’s a good day. It’s a fun day.

They go out in the evening, and he even posts a photo with the lads because he feels nostalgic. They are his second family, they really are; there’s nothing more he could wish for on his birthday.

Dele follows him to his room and they both camp on Eric’s bed and recap the funny moments of their escapade – how Hugo couldn’t sing happy birthday, how Erik scared some waitress with his aggressive face – then Dele asks him to tell him about his birthdays when he was little and listens to him intently, until it gets really late and his eyes slowly drop.

Eric is still too high on adrenaline, and he’s curious about other messages he got, so he starts reading them. Among many birthday wishes, there’s the conversation he has with Daisy.

It’s rather one-sided nowadays. Eric might have ignored her a bit recently. She clearly wanted to get involved in his life again, she wanted to stick her nose into his business unnecessarily, he could tell by the looks she’s given him. He simply didn’t want that. But he finally opens all of her messages. There are wishes at the bottom, and some banter about the “birthday love” photo Dele’s posted too.

Before that, earlier this month, she sent him links to videos.

The one that catches his eyes is an interview where they are supposed to finish the sentence the interviewer gives them. Dele’s the one in the video.

Eric knows they both have a habit of mentioning the other one a bit too often in interviews. It’s comforting, it’s familiar, it’s _easy_ because they really do spend a lot of time together.

Eric glances at him, soundly asleep, puts on his speakers and presses play.

He hasn’t seen that one yet.

Dele talks about jumping out of the plane, if he ever had to have a different job.

Eric’s stunned.

“How do you explain that?” Daisy asked in the text underneath.

Eric stares at Dele’s peaceful face, at his raising chest, at his long fingers wrapped around the blanker, at his goofy socks, and- And he’s confused. His heart wants something, but it won’t tell him what it is, and Eric wishes for answer, for solution. He wishes he understood if the perfect life he’s built is really meant to be shaken in façades and destroyed, if what waits for him on the other side of this one realisation is something worth the risk.

Would they actually go down together?

Eric is careful not to analyse the past weeks all too closely yet, not to give anything a definite name. Holding on tightly to the bliss of unawareness is much more tempting.

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know.

He leaves Daisy on _Read_.

* * *

(“Who would you take with you?” the interviewer asks Dele.

They don’t show his face, but he speaks softly when he answers “Eric. Cause if it messes up, then we both go down together.”)

* * *

Eric Dier is not stupid. He might not be as educated as his siblings, he might not have any experience with a real job, but he is not stupid. Sometimes, though, he happens to be oblivious.

That’s why it takes him so long to finally, in a natural, effortless way, understand what’s going on. That’s why, despite so many red flags and warnings, despite people giving him hints left and right, it didn’t cross his mind that the missing puzzle, all this time, the clue of his recent confusion, the answer to all his conflicted questions, was right in front of his eyes.

In February, they play the derbies. It’s always a big occasion; from the moment they arrive at the stadium they’re buzzing with adrenaline, with too many emotions right there almost on the surface, just waiting to be unleashed. Eric knows some of the boys get anxious before big games, but for him, it’s the essence, the best of the best in football, where everything gets a little more loaded, more important. It’s their pride on the line, not just some points, their pride and their fans’ love, and they owe them to leave their hearts on the pitch.

Both teams are standing in the tunnel, those last few minutes before the match stretching unbearably, and Eric jumps on his feet, trying to focus, focus, focus. He sees the back of Jan’s head in front of him; it’s the familiar sight that grounds him before almost every match they play.

But then, an arms sneaks around his waist, and Eric flinches and turns rapidly; it’s followed by a body forcing its way between him and Jan, where there should be a place for anyone at all. It’s a familiar slim body in Spurs uniform. Somehow, he manages to sneak in and find a spot for himself; as if this spot was waiting for him all this time.

Dele looks ready for the fight, his strong and unrelenting features warning everyone around that he’s here to take victory, until he looks Eric in the eyes and gives him the smallest wink, a barely noticeable “surprise” is mumbled. He’s proud of rendering Eric’s speechless with his unceremonial butting in. It’s like his whole life mission is rendering Eric speechless.

He succeeds.

It’s in details; in Dele’s gestures, in his features, in the way he carries himself, in the way he looks at the moment, right there, in the home of everything they both cherish. It’s in his fearlessness and his pride, in his playfulness and his vulnerable side which is only slightly peeking out from underneath it all. That’s where Eric finds his answer.

He doesn’t need to say it out loud for it to be true.

He knows.

The world keeps turning. They play, and they win. Eric is slightly more sloppy than he would’ve been on his best day, and he gets a yellow at the end, but he’s also all the more determined. It’s nothing in the face of a groundbreaking realisation he’s carrying in his mind which he managed to push to the back of his head. He hugs Dele one more time before he allows himself to go into a full panic mode, and then drives away.

* * *

He loses track of time he spends staring at the hair on his bathroom floor. They seem to mock him, a proof of his weakness, his inability to deal. He needed to do something, to use the energy that kept trying to tear him apart from the inside, and cutting his hair off just... happened.

He doesn’t know what to do with this. He stares at the floor, at the remains of old, oblivious Eric, price haired Eric they call him on the Internet, and he knows everything will be different now.

He doesn’t want to be a prince Eric anymore.

He wants to be just Eric, any other lad, free to reach out for anything he wants, free to make mistakes and change his live in a way nobody expects.

He thinks about the conversation he had with his agent. He could... He could go away. But would that make this feeling go away too?

Cisco and Clay both sit on the floor next to him, peering at him with concern.

“What?” Eric snaps at them. Cisco wails and drops his head to the ground. “Shhh. I’m sorry. I just- It’s-“

He doesn’t know what to say, even to his dogs. He cuddles them instead.

“We’ll be okay, boys, we will,” he mumbles into their fur, possibly more for himself than them.

He opens conversation with Daisy again, finds another video.

This time it’s one from the beginning of this season.

 _Eric, Eric, Eric_ , Dele answers to every asked question. Eric remembers how he told him to just answer with his name whenever he’d be in doubt. But it looks different than that. It looks like he’s asking for him, like’s reminding him about all their private promises.

He sweeps the floor, and then comes back to the bathroom to stare into his reflection. It’s the middle of the night already; he has bleary eyes and his hair is a mess.

He decides to make a list of the things he knows.

He has a girlfriend, and he loves her; it’s a different kind of love, the one, he thought, was a natural progression of a long-term relationship they have. He has a girlfriend. And he knows that emotional cheating is still cheating.

He’s bi. That’s not a new information. He’s accepted it a long time ago, long before he knew he would pursue a career as a football player. He knows, his family knows. Almost everybody who matters knows.

He’s a football player for one of the biggest clubs in the world. He got used to is too. It’s huge, but it’s his, and it’d never been something that bound him. He’d never perceived it as a golden cage.

Finally, and here’s the catch: he is also very much in love with his best friend. His best mate from the team.

Eric bites his lip and tries to make sense of it.

Somehow, it does make a perfect sense. He’s just been an oblivious idiot this whole time.

* * *

The next day, Maria calls him for their typical evening Skype. For a few seconds, he’s an asshole who considers not answering the call, but then he gets over himself and they talk, only slightly more awkwardly then normally.

She doesn’t ask if he loves her, and Eric is glad.

This time, he’s not so sure his voice wouldn’t waver.

* * *

Eric tries to stick to the routine and does what he can not to let his private life influence his work. It’s not easy when the two are so interconnected; everything about football screams Dele, and Dele screams football, and, frankly, Eric screams internally far most of the time.

“You’re being weird,” Harry comments during one of their regular walks in the forest, early in March.

“Gee, thanks.”

“Problems with the family again?”

“I’ve never had problems with family. And now I regret telling you anything, ever.”

Harry shakes his head. “Yeah, yeah. Okay, listen, I’m not the only one who noticed.”

Everything inside Eric screams in panic while he tries to keep his voice controlled. “Did Dele tell you something?”

Eric might have avoided him recently. It wouldn’t be noticeable if he treated this way anyone else from the team, but it’s Dele.

“Why Dele?” He asks, but it sounds like he’s faking his surprise. “No, no. Poch.”

“The gaffer?! Shit.” That’s even worse.

Clay brings Eric the ball to throw. He uses a bit too much force in his throw and it lands somewhere in between the trees.

“Yeah, shit. So I’m just trying to be helpful. It’s been noticed, you need to be more careful.”

“I’m not doing anything wrong.”

“Exactly. You’re not doing anything,” Harry confirms. “I’m going to tell you something. We can pretend it’s completely unrelated to his whole thing if you want. “

Harry waits for some sign from him, so Eric nods although not enthusiastically.

“I got lucky. I met Kate very early on. She gets me. She gets this life. She’s here every step of the way. That’s what you want to have, okay? Someone who understands and is there with you. If you find it, you hold on to it.”

Eric grunts in answer. He doesn’t know what to say.

“It’s not a big deal, remember? I told you that before. It’s not a big deal for the world. But it is for you. You need to be happy to play football well.”

When it’s Harry Kane who tells you that, you’ve got to believe it, Eric reckons.

* * *

March is busy until it isn’t.

They get knocked out of the Champions League by Juventus. It bums them all, and Eric feels personally responsible for it. He makes rounds in the changing room, makes sure to offer some consolation to those who need it. Dele sits in the corner with Winksy, and as much as Eric heart yearns to go to them and somehow ease the pain, the rational part of his brain knows he’s not ready yet. So he focuses on everyone else instead, until it’s all done and he goes home to his dogs and his overactive mind. He tries to get lost in a book and reads until his eyes drop with exhaustion. Dele would joke about books being the best way to go to sleep. He’s not there to do it.

The failure makes the team fight even harder in the Premier League – Dele plays better when he’s mad, so he scores a pretty goal in their match against Bournemouth, and Eric watches it from afar and congratulates him in his mind. Outside, he just pats him once on his head, that’s as much as he can bear.

They finish their March marathon on a high though. They advance to semi finals of FA cup, and in all of this excitement, the recent awkwardness is forgotten for a moment.

He’s squeezed between Erik and Ben, all of them smiling widely and falling into a rendition of “Oh, Moussa Sissoko”.

“Dier!” Dele shouts to him, and then gets closer. “Going out with us on Saturday? We’re celebrating,”

He keeps his distance, but his posture is open, hopeful. He doesn’t understand what’s going on, that much is clear, but he keeps trying to reach out to Eric.

Eric wishes he could reciprocate his efforts, but his thoughts are too tangled, his mind too confused. He’s afraid he’ll make one wrong move and the whole world will collapse, so he prefers to stay away.

“I can’t,” slips out before he even makes a conscious decision. “I’m going away for a few days.”

Dele visibly deflates. He crosses his arms, and looks away when he asks another question.

“You’re going to Portugal?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Eric lies.

“Say hi to Maria,” Dele states and leaves, not even giving him a second look.

* * *

Eric knocks on the door with force. When he doesn’t hear any answer immediately, he knocks even harder.

“I’m coming, coming!” He finally hears.

The door opens and an annoyed face appears in his sight.

“Ah. You changed your hair?” Daisy asks, and Eric can’t do much more than nod hysterically and fall into her hold. “You’re ready to talk yet?”

He begs her not to hate him. It’s ironic, considering she’s the one who caught him with a boy, all those years ago, and never gave him any sign of being capable of hating him at all. But this is different.

“You think I’ll hate you for breaking my best friend’s heart?” she asks softly. “What about your heart, Eric? You know what I hate? Seeing you like this. I was waiting for you to notice. We were all waiting.”

They’re sitting on her couch, both covered by a plush blanket. Eric’s bag lies abandoned on the floor. He’s run away from his life and he is staying over until he makes sense of it all again.

“Was it this obvious?”

Maybe she just wants to comfort him, but she declines. “I wasn’t sure I was right. I mean... You really looked happy with Maria. After some bumps, I thought you passed your test and frankly, I was waiting for her to say she wants to move here. But it never came, that was the first clue.”

He likes hearing her talk. It’s the best balm for his heart. Her voice, and Dele’ s voice.

“But then I noticed how much you changed. You’re a completely different person than you were when you first moved here. I think she knows it, and I think you know it, and that’s why seeing each other from time to time and Skyping was enough. That’s as long as you can keep up the illusion of who you were before.”

Eric sighs.

“...maybe I don’t want to change? Wasn’t life good enough?”

“See, now you sound like a kid again,” she chastises him.

“I don’t know what to do. This is not... This is not some boy I messed around behind the school building. I’m not just some kid with a weird accent anymore. Things might get ugly.”

She stays quiet for a while, and when she speaks, she’s very careful. “You don’t have to do anything about it. You can wait for it to go away instead. But it’s not only about you, it’s also about your best friend. How well is your tactic working out for the both of you?”

“Peachy,” Eric groans.

Daisy hums. “The second option is... you go for what your hearts wants.”

Eric imagines what could happen if he just, if he just walked to Dele and kissed him stupid. What if someone saw? Would they care? Does Eric really want to bend to publicity needs forever, does he want to hide?

And then, he realises with horror, it might not even get to that.

He suddenly sits straight. “Daisy. He has a girlfriend. He’s straight.” He feels like an idiot for not even considering it before.

Daisy shakes her head with exasperation. “Oh, Eric. He might have a girlfriend, yes. But he’s not straight. Or whatever, maybe he is, but then you’re his exception.”

Eric shakes his head frantically. “What are you talking about? He’s in a long-term relationship!”

“As you are,” she notices.

“He sees me as a best friend.”

“He looks at you like you hung the stars. I’m not exaggerating.”

Eric’s heart warms up at that, just a tiny bit, just as much as he allows it to. Because it might be true, but it might be dictated by wrong reasons.

“That’s because I helped him to find his feet here. He’s thankful.”

“Two years later. Of course. That’s why he’s there for you if you only say a word. That’s why he clings to you whenever he gets a chance. That’s why he met your big ass family while clearly being terrified of such social interactions. And, by the way, _you_ brought him to meet your family.”

“You made me do it, don’t try to bend the truth to your needs.”

“I’m physically unable to make you do anything. If I had such power, I’d force you to get your head out of your ass and make things right with Maria earlier.”

Eric winces. “Sorry.”

“None of that.” She puts her hand through his short hair. “Huh. I like that. Anyway... He’s clearly infatuated with you, that much is a sure thing. But I don’t know if he’s mature enough to make it work properly. He doesn’t strike as the most responsible person in the world, and you need to know if he’s strong enough to face... the obstacles.”

Eric would snort at the comment about responsibility, but he sobers up quickly. Dele’s been through a lot. He doesn’t need more shit from media, he doesn’t deserve to hide and to be vulnerable like that.

“Don’t underestimate him. He’s fearless,” Eric says fiercely. “But it needs to be his decision.”

“Yours. And his. Just take it slow, Eric. Make things right first. Give yourself some time to get used to your new reality. Give him some time to reflect. Be smart about it all.”

He nods in answer.

She looks into his eyes for a longer moment, and she softens even more. “I’m proud of you,” she whispers and he melts even more in her hold.

He promises himself then that Dele will be his first priority. He doesn’t say it out loud, he knows Daisy wouldn’t like that, but he knows he needs to take care of them both. He’s willing to do it.

He wakes up with clear eyes and full heart.

He can’t lose.

He packs up his bag and goes back home. He’ll make things right, step by step.

* * *

“You’ve made it!” Toby leans into him and screams into his ear. It’s still barely audible in the loud music played in their favourite fancy club in London.

Sonny doesn’t bother to speak, just hugs him like he hasn’t seen him in much longer than just a couple of days.

Eric scans the faces of his mates. It’s a good half of the team there, all of them seemingly after a few glasses already. Some boys are with their girlfriends and wives, but there’s also a contingent of taken men who decided to make into a lad nights – like Jan, Toby, and Hugo – and there are also single ones, some actively working on it, like Ben Davis on the dance floor, dancing like crazy with some nice girl. Eric bursts with laughter seeing that.

“Where’s Dele?” she shouts, but nobody answers him. He goes around the table and repeats the question to Winksy.

Something flickers in his eyes, and he quickly puts an arm around Eric’s shoulders and gives him a glass of something brown. “Who cares! Come on, raise up!”

Eric shakes his head with exasperation, but follows Winksy’s example and downs the drink.

“Is he here?” he asks again.

Harry makes some weird gesture towards the dance floor. “Somewhere out there with his bird. Whatever. Come on you Spurs!”

Eric rolls his eyes, but all the lads who hear the words repeat them and so he does too, and follows it with another glass for a good measure.

Time skips a bit then, between one embarrassing story told by Fernando in a broken English and another, and Eric almost forgets why he came here at all, until he catches a glance of a familiar girl, dancing not so far away from them.

She’s dancing with some stranger. No Dele in sight.

He tries to get up, but Winksy turn towards him quickly and tightens his hold on his arms.

“Bathroom!” Eric shouts into his ear.

He has no choice but to let him go.

Eric goes stumbling through the crowd. He actually need to go, and he’s glad he knows the way; the world is swirling a bit in his eyes.

Then it stops.

His vision zooms into a pair he sees in the back of the corridor by the bathroom and he immediately stops in his tracks.

Familiar locks glint in the colourful lights. There is a hand in them, big, male hand, tugging at the hair, and it must be painful, but it doesn’t bother the owner because he’s... preoccupied.

His limbs are tangled with the other man’s, and they’re kissing, obscenely. The sight makes Eric’s heart miss a bit. It’s Dele. Reckless, beautiful, not so straight after all Dele.

Not his.

He can’t force himself to turn away, the scene in front of him seems too unreal to risk turning away, and maybe he should feel like a creep, but he barely feels anything at all.

Someone steps by him, and stops short, in exactly the same manner he did just seconds ago. A finger with a long red nail hits him in his chest and he’s forced to look at the girl next to him. It’s Ruby, eyes hard as steel, lips tight.

“Stay away. You don’t get to mess it up for him,” she growls. Eric stumbles one step to the back. “Understood?”

He nods once, then the second time, and then he flees.

He stumbles out of the club and doesn’t expect a hand to catch his elbow. He turns, giddy from another unexpected touch, but this time, it’s Jan.

“Where are you going, mate?” he asks, concern colouring his tone.

Eric clears his throat. “Home. I don’t- I can’t stay anymore.”

Jan gives him one over and pushes himself off the wall. “You’re not driving. I’m sober, I’ll drop you off.”

Eric tries to protest half-heatedly, but even he knows he’s not in his right mind to drive.

Jan pushes him to the passenger seat, and turns up the heat when he starts to shake. He doesn’t speak but keeps giving him concerned looks.

They need to make a quick stop when Eric’s painfully reminded that he never got to the bathroom in the club.

Jan starts the car again and drops the bomb casually.

“It’s about Dele, no?”

Eric’s too tired to pretend. He closes his eyes.

“Yeah.”

“You saw him...?” He doesn’t end, but Eric knows he’s aware of what Dele was doing.

“Did you all know? That he... That he...”

“That he likes men? He’s pretty obvious.”

Eric doesn’t ask when exactly they all has the chance to see it. Maybe they go out without them, whatever.

“Thank god you’re not asking if we are okay with it, I would completely lose my faith in you.”

“I just wanted to speak with him. I just wanted to say sorry,” Eric explains, words all blurred together.

Jan hums. “You’ll get your chance. Just not today. It’s not the right time.”

Maybe it’s not the right time for them yet. Maybe that’s the thing.

It never seems like the right time.

At the end of the day, Eric just wants to get his best friend back. His heart hurts, but he thinks... he thinks it’s okay for Dele to take his time. To make his own mistakes and find his own way. Maybe it doesn’t lead to Eric.

But he wants his best friends back.

“Don’t worry. He’s still there,” Jan comments, and only then Eric realises he said it out loud.

Jan drops him off, and Eric thanks him profusely for much more than just giving him a lift.

He goes to bed worried again, about Dele vulnerable to this man in the club and the whole world outside, and about himself, vulnerable to Dele.

He hopes they’ll both survive it somehow.

* * *

The next day, Eric looks at the situation at the club from a different perspective and realizes it doesn’t change much for his near future.

He wanted to fix it all step by step. He wanted to give Dele time. It’s both still doable, maybe even more than before.

He spends the day reminiscing his youth and his beginnings in London, and when he’s sure he’s focused on the right person, he sits down on the couch in his living room and takes out his phone.

He scrolls down his contacts to a number he hasn’t called in a long time.

He remembers doing exactly the same thing a couple of years ago. He called to fix things back then.

It’s different today.

“Hey, Maria. We need to talk.”

* * *

He takes one huge leap, and it’s not easy, but he knows it’s the right thing to do. For the rest of the mess cleaning, he decides to apply a step by step strategy.

Slowly, in a snail pace, he manages to resurrect his friendship with Dele. It’s a process, and there’s no space in it for any fierce feelings. No place for any reckless mistakes, and no place for jealousy. He tries to find his own balance, and he wishes for the same in their relationship. So he doesn’t mention Maria, not even once, and he doesn’t speak about the night in the club. Some things are better left unspoken.

He gets closer to Dele in the same way they got closer to each other at the beginning. He tries to be nearby and prove to him he’s not going to disappear again. He’s there after every match; the good ones, and the bad ones. He invites him over because the dogs miss him. He jokes, a lot, and if at first his jokes fall flat, eventually they manage to put a smile on Dele’s face. Just like the way he defends him in interviews – it’s still as easy as breathing – makes him smile too. For now, it’s enough.

They finish the season on the second place in the table. That’s quite all right too.

With the World Cup looming on the horizon, Eric’s not sure what’s ahead for them. They’re both going, that much he knows, and they’re going together. Whatever life has in store for them, he’ll stay open; he‘ll take and cherish it.

Maybe it will be time purely dedicated to football, or maybe they’ll manage to find each other in it, again. Playing for England always pushes them closer together. Maybe this time they’ll actually find each other.

Egoistically, he hopes they will.

**Author's Note:**

> If you managed to get this far, thank you. We still have a long time to go, but in the next part, we'll be going back to the initial timeline, the Googlebox aftermath.  
> I know I say it often about many other stories, but this one truly is my baby. It's everything I have to give, really.  
> It would mean a world to me if you let me know what you think.  
> I'm also on [tumblr.](https://dieretmoi.tumblr.com/)


End file.
